Prevail
by All the names I want are taken
Summary: HG, HBP spoilers, WIP, 6 of 7. Short and sweet. 'I can tell you’re looking at me again. Why? I keep on asking myself this question. Maybe one day I’ll get an answer.'
1. Courage Will Prevail

A/N: This story was revised to follow the lines of the Half-Blood Prince. It has now been dedicated to HermyandRon4eva, because they were the only one to review my story originally. Thank you.

Disclaimer: Not mine.

Harry

I can't help it. I see the miniature water droplets sparkling in your hair, capturing them like a cobweb. The humidity is making your hair curl more than ever. I don't know how I never realized it- it took the whole of 5 years. But now, now I know the truth.

I remember my second year- you're first, that is, when you saw me at the Burrow. Your eyes widened, you face turned and elegant cherry red- almost the same colour as your hair. Everyone says the Weasleys have bright orange hair, but you don't, do you? No, your hair is a dark, seductive red. Possibly one of your most beautiful features- but no, none of your features are able to surpass the others, every part of you is beautiful, from your curly, mussed hair to your pale toenails. I can't help it; I'm completely and utterly infatuated with you.

Do you remember the butter dish incident? I do. How about your wonderful Valentine's Day poem? Oh, how you're brothers teased you about that one. Though I must admit, it was rather embarrassing for me, and I'll bet it was for you as well.

I watch your eyes, enthralled by their endless depths, as you read, your eyes glued to the delicate page. You let out a soft giggle, your sweet lips curling into a tiny smile. Even your hair conveys your happiness, the brightness and bounciness capturing my gaze once again. Over and over again, I ask myself how I could have broken up with you. I must always remind myself that if we were to continue, you would most likely be 6 feet under.

I will quite possibly die soon. I know that, and at this point I don't particularly care. Maybe some weird luck will befall upon me, and I'll be able to keep running forever, or find the remaining Horcruxes and defeat the monster that ruined your first year at Hogwarts, and destroyed everyone I loved. Ah, but I'm wrong. One person is left that I love- you. Your warm brown eyes, they themselves would be enough for me to fall for you. But alas, I care not for your looks. I know you're kind, fierce, and protective. You are also very independent, which obviously causes numerous problems with your overprotective brothers.

Damn your older brothers. Sometimes I think if it weren't for them, I would have realized my love for you sooner, and we would have had longer together. Unfortunately, I didn't. And now, I'm no where near certain if you would ever return to me, after we parted. You told me you never truly gave up on me, and for that I am eternally grateful- I had the chance to be with you for a couple astounding weeks.

I hope I have the chance to say I love you before snake face kills me or I kill him. Then I'll be satisfied. Maybe I'll even get the chance to hear those words spoken to me, you never know. But that's probably just a dream, an empty hope. Oh well.

I know for certain that all this is not the hormones talking; I love you more than anyone, more than Sirius, Dumbledore, my friends, anyone. When you come near, my heart races. When you smile in my direction, my palms become sweaty. Almost anything you do in a 100 meter radius of me will spring some sort of nervous reaction. But the feeling I get when you do one of the fore mentioned things- it's enough to make me want to stride up to you, and kiss with every emotion I have, anger, love, happiness and sadness. I promise my love for you will never wane.

I hope you soon find out how I feel. Maybe my Gryffindor bravery will come out soon, and let me give my heart to you. Personally, I hope it comes out as quickly as possible. I won't be able to handle it much longer. Seeing you try other men out breaks my heart- and yours. I know you're not truly happy with them. You told Hermione so, last night.

I will be here for one more week, long enough only to see Bill and Fleur's wedding. Then I will depart, searching for the final 4 keys to truly vanquish Voldemort. I will quite possibly never see you again.

So pray, Ginny Molly Weasley; that my courage will prevail, and you will discover the truth.

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	2. An Answer

Disclaimer: Again, not mine.

Ginny

I feel your eyes on me, watching my every move. I keep on wondering why you are torturing me like this. You watch me; make me hope you might be interested again. But no, you couldn't be, could you? You're the famous Chosen One. You would never truly want me. I was probably just a quick girlfriend to pass the time. I'll just ignore your words when you broke up with me that might lead me to believe differently.

Your eyes leave my face. My eyes leave my book. Yes, I had actually been reading, but now that you won't notice I'm free to stare at you for as long as my heart contents. You're beautiful. Your hair, permanently messy is soaked from our latest Quidditch game in the garden. I'm sure mine is slightly damp, at least. Your eyes, 'as green as a fresh pickled toad'. Do you remember that particular incident? Perhaps you do.

Your eyes are slightly glazed at the moment; a small, and rare smile lights up your normally depressed face. You have seen so much. I wonder how you do it. You still manage to get up everyday, knowing you have nothing to look forward to aside from war and torture. But you still do it, don't you? Maybe you have one hope left, which keeps you going. One love. Quidditch? A girl? Maybe it's your friends, or my family. Maybe it was even school and Dumbledore. I wouldn't know.

Did you know that I love you? I have for years now. I'm aware that I told Hermione I was over you, and went out with a few boys, but they were just cover ups. I'm sure you know I had a crush on you in my first year. I did get over that for a bit, but then I realized I didn't just have a crush on you- I loved you. With all my heart. I love your hair, your eyes, your personality, even your temper. I've heard that the Potters are notorious for their tempers- did you know that? Well, it's true. And your mother had red hair, did she not? So you inherited both tempers- what a horrible combination.

Sometimes I wonder if you watching me actually means something, but I'm not so sure. You watch a lot of people now- your friends, my family. Still, I hope.

Will I ever have the courage to confess to you? My acting skills have much improved, now I can talk to you without blushing or stuttering.

My, oh my, how times have changed since those days. Then, I would look at you and blush immediately. I wonder how you would react if I began that again. But no, I can't. Times have changed, you've changed, and I've changed. However, through all these changes, I've never given up on you, not once. I'm still confused as to how I managed that, even after going out with you and then breaking up because of your nobility.

These days are dark. Even the most sluttish girls have toned down dramatically. This past year we hurried from class to class, our teachers never joked. No pranks were ever pulled, not many people had time for flirting and dates then either. Why? Because we were, and still are, scared. You never know when someone might attack, killing your best friend, your boyfriend, your sister. Nothing can be predicted now; we're playing this all by ear.

At this point, your smile is fading gently. Perhaps you've come out of your dream world; perhaps you've just remembered what you will be doing after the ceremony. We all know you must do it, whether we like it or not. You are the Chosen One, the Boy Who Lived, Dumbledore's man; and you seem to think that you have to fulfill the prophecy in Dumbledore's honour, even if he said you didn't have to. You want to rid the world of those who killed Dumbledore, live up to your names.

My eyes are once again averted to my book, but I refrain from reading this nonsensical fiction. I can tell you're looking at me again. Why? I keep on asking myself this question. Maybe one day I'll get an answer.

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	3. Not Alone

Disclaimer: And again, not mine.

Harry

Do you ever wonder why the world is here? How about what would happen if nothing existed. There's the catch- we can't imagine nothing.

Still, I wonder what it would be like if the prophecy had never been spoken, I had never been born, or even if Merope Riddle was never abandoned by her husband. What would have happened if Hogwarts was never founded, if magic had never existed? And what if humans had never existed and neither had life. If Earth was never created. If the universe was never made. What would be here now? Would time still pass, would there be such a thing as time? These are completely and utterly useless thoughts, but do work well to pass the time.

It's the early morning, 3 days before the wedding. I'm lying on a camp bed on the floor of Ron flaming room. I cannot sleep, so I'm thinking useless thoughts.

What would _you_ do if you were destined to either die at the hand of the most evil being in the world or kill him, be hated by your only living family, love someone you could never have and had just lost someone you had truly come to care for? There's the problem, I know you would keep going, which is the only reason I carry on.

I saved you once, in the Chamber. I know you feel guilty about that, and wish you could repay me somehow. You've told me so may times. If only you knew the number of times you've saved me. I'm the one who should repay you.

At the end of fifth year, I was going to kill myself. I was depressed, my godfather had just died, and I thought my friends weren't enough to keep me going. And then I discovered you, as well as my love for you. That convinced me to keep going. Maybe my friends weren't quite enough, but you sure as hell were.

Your mother just yelled for us to get up. Breakfast time, huzzah! Time to avoid conversation, but the chance to see you. I still haven't figured out which one outweighs the other.

My head is aching again. Stress can do that to you. I've just gotten down the stairs, and I can spot your beautiful crimson hair out of the orange in a second. I must truly seem like I'm stalking you or something, but that isn't it. It's just my love. Love for you, your perfections and imperfections. I don't love you despite your imperfections- I love you for them.

I hope you realize that I love you, but I cannot be certain you do. My face is a mask now, you have almost no way of discovering what I think and feel. At this point I can't afford for anyone to know. If Voldemort were to find out you were the one thing that keeps me going, my sole weakness, the entire wizarding world would be doomed in an hour.

Notice how they call it the _wizarding_ world? Why not the witching world? Is it just me, or do the men around here seem mildly pompous? And there is a man and a wo_man_, men and wo_men_. Male and fe_male._ Rather sexist in my opinion.

I seem to be rambling on quite a bit today. I couldn't fathom why. Oh well.

I sit down and you catch my eye. I quickly jerk my head the other way to avoid your gaze. That just happens to be in the direction of the family clock, it's 9 hands all still on _mortal peril_. They will remain so until Voldemort is gone. I sigh quietly.

However, I am not alone in this task. Dumbledore is dead- the Half-Blood Prince, Snape, killed him. Snape betrayed us all, by killing the head of the light side. But Ron and Hermione offered to come with me, help me on my mission. I realized exactly how much they meant to me. Yes, they will come, whether I like it or not.

I love you. I feel the need to think those exact words occasionally. You kept me going through time of need, but I'll have to leave you soon. Hopefully Ron and Hermione will be enough to keep me going, as I've realized my love for them as well. Of course not the same way as you, no one could ever replace you as my one true love. No, they are my family. Not by blood, but they are closer than any blood I've ever met.

Yum. Food. I heard you sigh as I looked away. You wish to come on the mission as well. I cannot permit you. I will not be alone where I go, remember that, and you must stay with those you care the most about. You will not be alone, and neither will I.

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	4. I Love You

A/N: This chapter is written differently. I am in a different mood. By the way, thank you very much Loz, goddessa39 and Adoring, for sending me such positive reviews. Thanks a lot.

Disclaimer: It's still not mine, folks.

Ginny

_Wow._ The first word that comes to mind when I think of you. Wow, nothing more, nothing less. Before it might have been something different, perhaps something meaningless, but now, now it's something much more substantial. And I know it.

I sigh softly. I have given up on my book. The loose text simply cannot capture my attention at the present time. When my gaze is levelled, I realize I have caught you during one of your many staring periods. One in which you were analyzing _me_.

You blush slightly, though not enough for you to look away in embarrassment. No, your stare remains. We have apparently decided to begin an unofficial staring contest. I refuse to let my eyes stray from yours, while you apparently do the same. Neither of us will look away, or say anything, do anything to show some kind of reaction.

Needless to say, as we are not alone in our living room, our connected gazes are seen by the other occupant. Hermione too had been reading, but had supposedly decided to break from the fantasy world contained in a book. She alone is here to witness our gazes; she alone could possibly come to the conclusion that was the truth.

Maybe she sees it, every time I see you, or sneak a quick glance at your dark face. Maybe she knows that I never truly gave up on you, even after our break up. Who knows? But she does seem to know that I still love you.

That night, she abruptly confronts me.

"You love him, don't you." She states quietly.

I meet her gaze, and see the serious expression donning her features. Yes, she knows the truth. She sees past my lies and facades to hide it from the world. She knows I have always, and still do, love Harry.

"Yes." I reply in an equally quiet voice.

"Good," She says. "He really needs you."

Her words puzzle me, but she refuses to say anymore.

I fall into a deep sleep, waiting for the dawning of the next morning.

I slip into consciousness, aroused by the light padding of bare feet across the hardwood floor of the hallway. It is barely past five in the morning, and rarely have any of my kin risen at such an early hour. Hermione is still fast asleep, her hair tousled against her pillow, her eyelids fluttering occasionally.

After a slow fifteen minutes, I realize there is no hope for further sleep. I quickly roll out of bed, and hope to exit my bedroom while escaping the notice of the sleeping Hermione. I succeed, and further my steps along the small hallway, before crawling down the creaky stairs to the kitchen.

I cast my gaze around the unmoving room, searching for the owner of the feet that had swept past my bedroom door only a little while ago. The cost was clear, so I set off the retrieve the book I had left behind in the living room the night before, after the staring contest had taken place.

I immediately begin another attempt at reading this useless book, but to no avail. My thoughts are stuck on you.

I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you and I love you. Maybe repeating my sentiments will leave my mind in peace, free from endless thoughts of you. However, I am incredibly aware that this will not work, as I have tried it many a time.

I decide to give up on my useless efforts of not thinking of you. I have let my mind succumb to the thoughts which I usually try to keep under lock and key.

The primary statement passing through my mind is three simple words, never to be forgotten. _I love you._

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	5. Please Ginny

A/N: I read this story, where Harry discovered fanfiction, and wrote a story. "Harry" was all upset because he had 63 hits for his story, but only 15 reviews. I have about 1030 hits for this story, with 3 reviews. How depressing is that?

Disclaimer: It's not mine.

Ron

I watch you, Ginny, as you tip-toe softly over the worn floorboards. Your mussed hair slides gently over your pale cheeks and you brush it away sleepily. You look exhausted, dark circles rimming your puffy eyes, hair frizzy and poking out of a messy, loose braid. Obviously you've just awoken, which is hardly surprising- it's only around five o'clock. I myself am only awake because of hunger- you, I believe, have a different reason.

Carefully, you pick up you slim novel from the couch, where you left it the night before. I hear you sigh, and I know why. You're remembering the previous nights contest- Hermione informed me of the happening. You love him. He loves you, though that you may not know. It may seem to you that no one realizes your sentiments, and your reasoning is close. Only I and Hermione are aware- we know you best, we can tell when uneasiness is running through our close friends.

My eyes follow you closely, unnoticed, from the kitchen door way. You slip gently onto our old couch, obviously intent on returning to you banal book. You may try; Ginny, but you won't forget him.

Hermione

Ron knows. I know. You know you love him. He knows he loves you. You and he don't know you love each other. You both should, maybe. I believe it would help.

Harry is depressed, Ginny. He knows that his life hangs on a single thread- he has to kill Voldemort. If he doesn't, not only does he die, but may others do as well. Those he leaves behind will perish; Voldemort will destroy everything in time. Harry has little choice.

Both Ron and I realize we can do very little to help keep him alive. Sure, we can help him search for the Horcruxes, maybe even help in a few battles along the way. But Ginny, that doesn't help Harry himself. That doesn't help his heart. You're the only one who can do that.

Please Ginny, help him, for his sake and your own.

Harry.

I hope everyday. I hope you love me. That's all I can do- hope. If you don't, you don't. Once again, I have no choice.

It's morning, around eleven o'clock, two days after our staring contest. The others, and you, are helping with decorations outside with your mother. Only one day remains before the wedding. Fleur and Bill are actually getting _married_! Can you believe that? It's strange. I first met Fleur in my fourth year- the Triwizard Tournament. She was only 17.

Maybe someday I'll find love like them. Maybe someday I'll get over you, or even better, I'll confess. Confess my love for you, everything. I wish I would do it, just to know.

Ginny, I need you. Please, I need your love, I need your help. You're my lifeline, the only person that keeps me going. If you were to die, or fall in love with someone else, I believe I would give up, just leave the war, let the Dark Lord kill me, just to end it all. You're the only person I'm fighting for Ginny. I need you. Please, don't love someone else. Please, don't leave.

_Please Ginny._ Tears burn liquid tracks down my face, my eyes shine. A single sniff, I wipe my tears on my hand. _Please Ginny._

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	6. Sometimes Things Just Happen

A/N: I'm not entirely sure what I wrote made sense… Please review and tell me if it did. This is a short chapter, nothing actually happens.

Disclaimer: I don't own it.

Harry

Sometimes things just happen: it rains during a wedding, someone dies or you win the lottery.

Think 'life'. How did that happen? Religion believes it was God, or some other all-powerful being. Science thinks it had something to do with the spontaneous creation of atoms… then cells and pond scum that became apes and so on. Personally, I've given up on proof and reasoning. Life just happened, and keeps happening.

Sometimes things just happen: you loose your favourite shirt, everyone fails a test except the least studious, or you can't get to sleep.

Luck and chance, maybe. Probability controls our lives: will it rain today? What are the chances I'll need red ink in class? What if we lose this game? What if we win? The likelihood of each thing happening makes our decisions, whether we bring red ink to class, and increases our confidence if we know there is no chance our great Quidditch team could lose to their measly one. That is chance and probability… but then there is luck. There may be a seventy-five percent chance of thunderstorms, but there is still a twenty-five percent chance of their not being any. Luck can beat chance, probability, even on occasion certainty. Like I said- sometimes things just happen with no explanation, no rationale. No matter how strong the odds are, luck still plays a role.

So, let's ignore any reasons or calculations. We're hanging with nothing to back us up.

Now you're wondering what the hell any of that had to do with anything. Does any of my philosophy have to do with anything? Sure. The chances of me walking up to you one day and kissing you, telling you I love you is unlikely. But watch out- because sometimes things just happen.


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